Coke with a Twist (A Mercy Watts short) Read Free

came in and asked to see DeeDee and Loni. They signed in and asked to be taken straight back. Desk Girl took them without hesitation. Their security sucked.  
    They went around the corner and I had a miraculous recovery. If everyone had to sign in, excepting those that had the brains to avoid the so-called security, then Byers’s name would probably be in the book if he was going out with somebody. I scanned the book and came up empty.
    Luckily, the books for the last couple years were in the second drawer down. Six months before, Byers had signed in for Becky Strattman. I was running out of time, but a quick scan of previous pages revealed that he’d visited Becky a lot. She had to be a girlfriend. I heard footsteps, shoved the books back and jumped into my seat.
    I stretched and smiled at the desk girl. “Tylenol is finally kicking in.”  
    She couldn’t have cared less. During my stretch, I noticed the pictures of the girls on the wall neatly categorized by year. I walked over still stretching and tried to find that year’s pictures. They weren’t up yet, but the previous year’s were. They even put the names of the girls under their pictures. How nice of them. Especially since they couldn’t seem to remember anyone. Now I would recognize Becky when I saw her.
    I left, drove a couple of blocks away and parked. I got out the binoculars Dad gave me for my fifteenth birthday. I liked them until I discovered he expected me to use them on his cases. I could see the front door of the house and the cars pulling into the lot. Most of the girls were walking since it was close to the main campus. Quite a few blondes came and went, some real, most not. Becky wasn’t one of them.  
    I waited an hour and started getting antsy. I never was good at surveillance. Invariably, I had to go to the bathroom, fell asleep, or get so bored I wanted to attack the person under surveillance. For the love of God, do something. Most people were boring, but they probably think they’re interesting as all get out.  
    When I couldn’t take it anymore, I broke down and called Morty. Dad does a huge business in divorce/infidelity and Morty is his go-to guy for surveillance. Morty doesn’t get bored. He is a dungeon master for his Dungeons and Dragons cronies. He sits and works on the latest plan of attack. Eventually curtains would be drawn back or there’d be a covert kiss in the doorway and Morty would be ready.  
    If he’s at home and awake, he’s doing checks and talking to contacts. Morty loves the work. He was a wedding photographer, but he quit when he started fantasizing about beating the brides to death with his camera.
    “Mort, it’s me. I need a favor.”
    “Is it billable?” he asked.
    I pictured Morty sitting at his desk with his belly hanging over the keyboard. He’d be smiling his twisted smile while he calculated how much he could charge me. Great, not only was I not getting paid, now I had to pay Morty.
    “Sure, why not.” It would take two minutes. I could afford two minutes.
    “Be quick. I’ve got three other lines going.”
    “I need you to call a sorority and find out where Becky Strattman is. You can say you’re her English professor or something.”
    “Does she have an English professor?”
    “Probably.”
    “You’re tired of sitting in the car, aren’t you?”  
    “Yes, I’m bored stiff,” I said. “You want the number or not?”
    Ten minutes later, I got a call back. Becky had a late lab and got out at six. Morty had taken the liberty of finding the building and the most likely exit. More billing. Great.
    I headed over to the science building, bought a mocha breve, and plunked myself down on the steps to accost her when she came out. There was a homeless guy opposite me with a large cardboard box. He looked as bad as a person could look and that wasn’t helping him get rid of whatever was in the box. People would look in and practically run in the other direction. After a half hour, I